Ozzie apologizes — does everyone move on?

Ozzie Guillen sounded remorseful for his comments

April 10, 2012|Dave Hyde, Sun Sentinel Columnist

MIAMI — Ozzie Guillen walked through the doorway, his face set in stone, and began apologizing in Spanish. He said he hurt people. His used words like regret, shame, disappointment. His face flushed. His eyes teared.

He soon switched to English and said, "This is the biggest mistake of my life."

"I am here on my knees apologizing," he said.

Then, after 45 minutes on his knees, when asked again about saying, "I love Fidel Castro," the Marlins' manager said he felt, "Stupid, very stupid. Very bad. Very guilty. Very sad. Very embarrassed."

Enough. There's nothing more Guillen can say, nothing more he can do, no other way he could express remorse than he did Tuesday morning, face-to-face with Miami, for his stupid comments.

There's also no way an apology or the flimsy five-game suspension Guillen received will satisfy the 200 protesters who were outside Marlins Park waving Cuban flags and chanting, "Communista! Fidel-ista! Chavez-ista!"

There's no compromise to be worked out or mediation to be held. There's just the truth that the fun and entertaining manager who looked so perfect for the new-look Marlins doesn't look so fun, entertaining or perfect anymore.

At one point Tuesday, as protesters chanted outside, as fire marshals limited the number of journalists in the room, as the Marlins' Anglo executives watched uncomfortably, a Spanish-language reporter asked live on Miami TV about Guillen saying he likedCuba'sdictator on a previous video.

"I didn't say that,'' Guillen said.

"You did."

"No, I didn't."

An Anglo TV reporter stood up and said, for his live audience, "For the benefit of those who speak English …"

Language, as you see, is part of the story here. It often is in these South Florida moments. Guillen said he didn't explain himself properly in English with the, "I love Fidel Castro" comment in a Time magazine interview.

No matter how long he's lived in America, that's understandable. English isn't his first language. At one point Tuesday, he was asked in English if he could "mend fences" in the community."

"What's that, mend?" he said.

"Fix,'' he was told.

"Oh, yes, that's why I'm here, to try,'' he said.

The questions kept coming: Was he apologizing for his words or apologizing for the fallout from them? Was his suspension enough, considering that's what a manager gets for touching an umpire? Was his suspension even necessary, considering this public shame is his real penalty?

"Fair or unfair, I'm in no position to complain,'' he said.

Enough. Move on. But as you do, there's something that shouldn't be lost in the clash of cultures, languages and emotions, no matter where you stand on this story: This sense of being accountable for your words.

In America these days, a quick apology or a statement expressing regret, "if anyone is offended," often is considered enough. What's often most important is protecting yourself from any serious questioning and moving on quickly.

Guillen flew to Miami on the off-day in a Marlins road trip to apologize, as he should. He struck the proper tone with his words. He opened himself to questions. He answered every question asked, flipping between two languages.

"I'm here to say I'm sorry with my heart in my hands'' were his first words. "I want to say I'm sorry to all those people who are hurt indirectly or directly.

"I know I did the wrong thing. I'm not here for fake, for my job, to make me look good. I do this because I mean it. I made some stupid comments. Now I need [to apologize] and try to clean it up."

There's no defending Guillen's comments. And there's no forgetting them. And there's no guessing where he goes from here as, one question after saying, "I'll never talk politics again," he was asked about the Venezuelan election.

"I'd rather be dead than vote for Chavez,'' he said.

That opinion won't cause problems in South Florida.

"I came here to apologize from my heart, and I did,'' he said.

He can't say anything more. He also can't say anything to satisfy some. But enough. Move on. At some point there's nothing else to say.